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“MaximusMancini.”
I’ve been held for almost twenty-four hours by the time my name is called. I suppose they now know I’m not my brother. My skin crawls with the idea of Officer McCain. He has to be the one who sent me those letters.
Every fiber in my body is screaming for me to kill him. I hate the idea of him out in the world and not knowing what he has planned. His plan, obviously, is not to watch me rot in prison. Surely, he wouldn’t let me out just to kill an old girlfriend.
I walk out of the interrogation room and make my way to the front desk where my few personal items are handed back to me. I refuse to growl a thank you. Romeo’s sister-in-law, Aria, is standing out front waiting. Neither of us say anything until we’re sitting in the back of her car and the car is on the road.
“How did you get me out?” My eyes narrow in on hers. I trust no one. Maybe she’s working with McCain.
“Last I checked, you weren’t Dante,” she says matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry, he’s not being pulled in. They were fishing, that’s all.”
“Thank you for coming,” I grumble, on edge.
Aria isn’t taking any of my bullshit and glares at me like an ungrateful child. “Gia is quite fond of you,” she refers to her sister, Romeo’s wife. “And Romeo refused to take no for an answer,” she tells me, her stern voice barely softened by a sarcastic chuckle. Then she replaces her bad attitude with a warm smile.
“You don’t like being strong-armed into doing dirty work for us, do you?” My lips twist with my immature blow, but she stays unfazed.
“I’ve heard you’re the asshole brother. I didn’t do it for you.” She waves her hand. “All your brothers are on their way to Throne of Sin to meet with you.”
I turn, looking out the window, my thoughts swirling with what needs to be done.
I step through Throne of Sin’s doors a few minutes later and Dante whistles me over with a head nod as he continues toward his office. He’s not happy to see me, his expression says it all. I’m sure he thinks all of his problems with this place are because of me.
Ignoring the scowling face of Dante, I head toward the bar and pour myself a whiskey, not waiting for the new bartender to do their job.
Each step he takes toward me is stiff. He might need a drink more than I do. I pour two more shots, holding one out for him.
“You’re not going to like this, but it can’t be avoided,” I say as he downs the drink.
The vein in his forehead protrudes along with his angry, bulging eyes. Life is so much easier when you don’t let shit bother you. Cutting ties to your emotions frees the soul.
“And the blows keep coming,” he mumbles, pushing off the counter, heading toward his office. “What’s the issue now?” he asks, his back to me.
“She’s not coming back.” The words are hard to push out and come out lower than intended, and the first pit of pain wants to burrow in but I refuse to allow it.
“How and why would you know Sienna is not coming back?” We enter the office and he taps his fist on the arm chair, looking down at it, lost in thought, before he glances back at me.
My first instinct is to say she’s mine, but I let her go. “I’m the one who told her to come here to work, because I knew her family would never dare to look for her here.”
I continue telling him the whole story of how it came to be. Dante is furious with my intrusion into his business. I’ve already stopped the other brothers from coming here, he’s too wound up to see reason right now.
IwanttotextSienna and my fingers itch to glide over the screen. I have to toss my phone across the room and pull out a textbook to distract myself. The letters and numbers get jumbled somewhere between the page and my head. It’s impossible to concentrate.This is a first. It always helped before, but now it’s like my brain can only focus on one thing: Sienna.
Maybe she’s still at her apartment? No, she’s back home where she belongs. I should have continued on with my task instead of becoming distracted with her. If I had, would Sienna’s future have been better than what it has become?
I drop my head into my palm, my elbow resting on the table.
One look, that’s all I need.
I stand, leaving the table a mess. My hand touches the door handle at the same time as my phone rings. It could be her…more importantly, it could be my brother.
Pressing the phone to my ear, Romeo begins, “I have something to show you, meet me at the butcher shop.” He hangs up before I can get a word in.
I’m torn between the two, but in the end, he can wait.
Theclubhouseisasbusy as I’ve ever seen it. I walk in with no one noticing except one scrawny teenager. “Exciting night,” I say, nodding my head toward his empty vest with no patches.
“I’m getting patched in.” The boy is giddy, practically jumping up and down. All he will be is this clubs bitch until someone says he’s worthy. I want to tell him to find worth in himself but that’s not how these people roll.
